


Rencontre à la Nuit

by AFY2018



Series: Motherland: Fort Salem [4]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancing, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Magic, Raylla, Reel, Smut, Wiccan - Freeform, Witches, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFY2018/pseuds/AFY2018
Summary: Post-Season 1 AU with Raelle in war college and Scylla hiding out with the Spree.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: Motherland: Fort Salem [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095350
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

“Welshem oo huh whirr hm morrhn,” a voice filtered in. “Rrr, Rrra? Caher. Hhh, Shitbird.” Raelle nodded her head at the name. “At least you heard that.”

“Bellweather,” she grumbled in response, a short chuckle escaping her dry lips. “Where am I?” Collar opened her eyes, her body aching all over from her injury. “What happened?”

“You got a knife in the heart,” Abigail explained, “Nasty injury… but fucking courageous of you to go back to save that kid.”

“Now’s not the time to get sentimental,” she joked, getting help as she sat up. “Thank you for saving me. Where’s our little ray of sunshine?”

“She’s still stuck as one of Alder’s biddies, but they’re trying to replace her, last I heard. You know, I’m glad you’re alive, we thought we lost you. You stopped breathing when we left, and it took all of Alder’s Biddies to keep you alive until you were at base camp.”

“I’m glad I’m not that disposable.”

“You’re irreplaceable, Raelle,” she tried to convince her.

“How long have I been out?”

“About a week, they weren’t sure you’d ever wake up-”

“But you stayed, thank you.”

“And Scylla,” she noted, “Cute brand you have.”

Raelle glanced down at her palm, seeing a new S carve into her hand. A flood of overwhelming sorrow tore at her heartstrings, the pain making her dizzy. It ate away at her, the memory of condemning her being the final memory they shared. Tears filled her eyes and an incessant beeping from her monitor filled the room. Abi slid in beside her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, trying to do what their other sister would do. She rushed her hands through her hair, holding her as the sobering minutes passed. Raelle brushed the tears from her eyes and pulled out of her embrace, the door suddenly opening.

“She’s awake, how are you feeling, Private Collar?” a doctor inquired.

“I’ve felt better.”

“Could I get a moment alone with your friend, I just need to perform some cognitive tests,” she told Abigail.

“Wait, can she stay?”

“Of course, if that’s what you wish.” She stood by the other side of the hospital cot and set her clipboard down to begin.

Raelle felt weak, the light from the doctor’s pen dizzied her, her strength seemed shot, even her reflexes were slightly off. It wasn’t until she was asked to stand that she felt useless after almost vomiting from the sudden vertical change. Even though the medical woman explained to her that she lost massive amounts of blood, nothing could take away how utterly frail she felt, only exacerbated when she learned about the circular scar carved over her heart.

“I will inform General Alder that you have woken up. I know she’s been thinking about how to reward you and restate your duties now that the mission has been accomplished,” the doctor stated with a smile. She gathered her belongings and left the room.

“Talking about reassignments,” Abigail began, “I was assigned to become a Blaster here. I’m the first Bellweather in three generations to attend Fort Salem!”

“Where has your family been accepted to in the past?” Raelle inquired.

“Kyteler. I hope we all stay here, I really don’t know how I’d get by without you all,” she admitted.

“Well, I’m not sure we‘ll have any classes together unless Tall and I become Blasters, too.” Raelle leaned against the wall, tilting her head back to look at the water-stained ceiling. “Thank you for saving me. I was such an asshole when we first met and I apologize for that.”

“I was told that the rebellious cadets make the most courageous soldiers, and that couldn’t be truer with you. I hope this isn’t overstepping any boundaries, but from what you’ve said about your mom, it seems that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Raelle smirked at her statement, wondering herself how well Petra and her mom knew each other. “Thank you, Abi.”

“I’m gonna go to the caf, do you want any real food?”

“Yeah, surprise me!” Raelle smiled, waiting until the door closed to reflect on her thoughts.

She looked up at the mirror by the door, slowly standing up and grabbing a cart at the end of her bed to hobble over to it. Raelle mulled overlooking at herself, finally pulling down her gown to get a better look at her injury. From the reflection in the glass, there was deep uneven tissue that didn’t look like it would fully heal. All soldiers had scars, but Raelle couldn’t even look at herself. She endangered her unit by leaving the helicopter, her impulsive words caused them all to fall behind their peers and damage Abigail’s name, preventing her mother from moving up and possibly increasing the issues in the military. Raelle felt the incessant itching in her palm, finally looking down at the S her love had given her. It was all too much to bear, the guilt of condemning her friends and love to possibly deadly fates. Being accepted into Fort Salem meant that Abigail would be assigned to special operations, increasing her chances of death at the hands of the Camarilla. Tally was stuck as a mindless minion to Alder, and Scylla was alone in prison, possibly scared out of her mind. She may have been Spree, but she wasn’t like those other war criminals and traitors. Her heart began to ache again, her head pulsing and her limbs feeling heavy before she made her way back to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Another attack by the Terrorist group known as the Camarilla has shaken the United States. In Kansas City, of the Cession, twelve more Witches have been killed. With a new group on the rise and the Spree no longer attacking, one wonders if there is a possible ceasefire for these senseless acts of…”

Scylla listened to the report from the ratty couch that faced the fireplace. The radio was always on when they attacked as if her sisters wanted to revel in their actions, but with the Camarilla’s return, meetings were held over the droning journalists. Scylla looked at the charred bricks, index finger drawing the swirling letter in her palm while she repeated the incantation. She had wished she taught the work to Raelle before everything fell apart, now more than ever as she felt an emptiness from the other side, a coldness as if she was no longer connecting to it. She had failed her mission, but the thought of such a powerful woman beating out purebred witches warmed her heart.

“Come here, Ramshorn,” Willa called to her from her office on the second landing. Scylla instantly got up, joining their leader and her generals. “MacNamara has informed me that your cover was completely blown, so we dug up an old alias for you. What do you think, can you handle a new assignment?”

“Yes ma’am,” Scylla quickly affirmed, “What is my assignment?”

Their leader pulled out an envelope, presenting it to her, “Euryale Kiran, civilian from Missoula, Montana. You’ll have to visit Williamson for a bit of a change. Everyone is dismissed, save for you,” she directed to Scylla. “I will need you to research our next attack. I’m looking for response times from the military, foot traffic, and any security details we might run into. You’ll be working under General Murare.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends, what’s it about?”

“Raelle and Edwin.”

“Close the door,” she commanded. “What did you think when you found out Raelle wasn’t fully a witch?”

Scylla followed her orders and stood before her. “... I was already in love with her when she told me about her dad. Why would you lead the front against civilians if you married one?”

Willa pondered for a moment, deciding how trustworthy this witch was. “I do believe we’re better than those civilians. We can manipulate minds, heal one another, and speak to the dead. I also know that the witches Alder has bred are far weaker than herself and I believe she knows that. She lives on life forces, not power. If she truly cared about making fearsome soldiers, she would have told our witches to engage with civilians, too.”

“Wait, are you talking about-”

“Inbreeding, yes. Raelle is as strong as she is because she isn’t bogged down by imperfections. I knew from the moment she was born that she would be practically invincible.” Willa glanced down at her coffee, a smirk appearing on her lips, “I’m sure you’re aware of her power.”

“She took out a room of cadets with her Christo-Pagan work,” Scylla recalled being told. “Aren’t you afraid one of your attacks might kill Edwin, though?”

“That’s why I moved us to the Cession. It’s the sanctuary between the civilian world and witches.”

“Why attack civilians instead of the military?”

“We needed to provoke them. Full attacks against our own would be regressive, they would fail to make the point that groups like the Camarilla persisted past the Accord. Witches live their lives being tracked by these bigots whether or not they know they’re special. We needed to force Alder to break free from that Civilian President.”

“Wouldn’t that make civilians hate us more?”

“Yes, it would, but the Camarilla must be weeded out.”

“Why-”

“Look, Scylla, you had one job, to bring back my daughter, and I am finding it in the goodness of my heart to give you another chance to do something for us until the Military stops looking for you. Go find Williamson and give her the green slip in your envelope, then review your new identity.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she quickly nodded. “May I step outside, for some air, I feel… a little sick,” she sighed, holding a hand over her heart.

“Don’t take too long,” Collar agreed.

Scylla took the envelope and walked downstairs, a hand still clenched over her heart when a sharp pain tore through her chest, like bad heartburn or the feeling after sprinting a mile. She clung onto the door frame as the feeling escalated to the point where it seemed her heart might explode. Spots formed in her vision until as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, the only thing left being the remaining aching in her chest. She grabbed her cup of coffee and walked out of the Spree’s hideout, the gate closing behind her as she wandered the city.

“I expected a bit more out of you, Ramshorn,” a slithering voice berated.

Scylla whipped around on her heels, shoving the envelope in her back pocket as she came face to face with Anacostia. She cooled her temper, halting the biting questions on her tongue. “I have nowhere else to go, what do you expect?” She smirked a tad at the taught silence between them, avoiding Quartermaine’s dark sharp eyes. “How’s Raelle doing, kicking ass in College, I assume?”

“I doubt it, her unit was deployed last night.”

Her heart suddenly sank, hand back over her aching chest. “They’re fine, right? Are they after the Spree?”

“No, our ancient enemy has returned.” Scylla’s chest began to ache again, her stomach churned at the possible reason behind her sudden pain. “She is being led by the General herself.”

“We are disposable to her,” she spat. “I have a feeling Raelle is in great danger, I know she’s in danger; hurt or…” Scylla couldn’t even verbalize the possibility. “What are you doing here?”

“If the Camarilla are attacking us again, we need your help to bring them down for good. I need you to figure out what the Spree wants and their next moves. We cannot persist in these senseless acts of violence when we have a far greater threat looming in the near future.”

“Is there any way I could see Raelle again?”

“Is that what you want?”

“More than anything in the world,” she mindlessly confirmed.

“Give me what I want and I will find a way to get you two reconnected, I’ll let you know when I’ve seen enough to repay you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How the hell did you get a picture?” Raelle chuckled, looking at a photo of them after the Pageant.

Abigail roared with laughter, flicking the polaroid of her friend asleep on the ride back. “Dude, you were passed the fuck out.” She reached into Collar’s duffle, searching through the bottom to pull out a combat charm Tally had made. It was an off blue ribbon pleated and formed in a circle with some black thread, a bead sewn to the middle. “Oh, my goddess.”

“Yeah, I feel bad that I didn’t wear it.”

“It probably lost its charm when Garrett… yeah.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

The door opened again, so Abigail began to replace her belongings back in the bag. She instantly stood at attention at the sight of General Alder and her Biddies filing into the room, forming a semi-circle around them. Tally stood behind the others, respectfully watching her old unit.

“At ease,” the ancient general nodded. “Fellthorn told me you woke up, Private Collar. You did a great thing, saving the Tarim boy. So, I thought it would be important for you to know that next semester, we plan to keep you here in Salem to join our Special Operations Medical Institute for further training, of course, that is if you have recovered in time.”

“Thank you, General,” Raelle begrudgingly nodded.

“Private Craven,” she addressed the now greyed soldier, “we will leave you five minutes to speak with your unit.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she respectfully bowed, watching from the corner of her eye as they left the room. Once alone, she rushed to Raelle’s side, tightly embracing her old sisters. “Oh my goddess, I thought you were- but when they said you weren’t, I was praying you would wake up, then Fellthorn told us and I could barely contain my- you’re alive!”

“I missed you, Tal,” Collar tried to comfort her

“How is it as a biddie?” Abigail inquired.

“Well, we do everything together. It’s fun. You know, most of those women are only at most five years older than us?”

“My god, she really sucks the life out of them,” Raelle muttered under her breath. “Do you know when you’ll be normal again?”

“No, but I know that I’m not anywhere near as skilled as them. Even the works Alder knows, I just can’t seem to perform yet?”

“Have you been getting private lessons?”

“Well, no, but I can… nevermind.”

“No, what is it?”

“I can see her memories,” she whispered, the door instantly swinging open.

“Craven, your time’s up,” they heard Alder bark.

“Yes, ma’am! I’m sorry, I miss you guys!” Tally quickly added on her way out.

~~~~~~~~~~

~10 Months Later~

“Eighty-three dead in less than a year,” Quartermaine informed Scylla over coffee. “I expected more to be done.”

“It’s a slow process, but we agreed upon a ceasefire.”

“That’s not enough. Look, I appreciate your information, but with no help from your people, I can’t give you what you want until we have a conversation with one of your superiors.”

“Only if you promise to leave them be.”

“I can’t promise that.”

Scylla took her cup and rose to her feet, pulling her hair over her shoulder, “Then we’re done here. A safe meeting is all I ask. Goodbye until then.”

“You really don’t have the upper hand, Ramshorn. I know where the home base is.”

“But I highly doubt you are willing to threaten your next home.” Eliciting the wanted response from her, Scylla smirks, “I know more than you think I do, Quartermaine.”

“Collar still asks about you.”

Scylla felt her heart drop, and her head went fuzzy. She turned back around, both hands wrapped around the paper cup. “How is she?”

“She has a unit she’s of her own now, I guess Bellweather was a greater influence than I had originally thought.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask, but… has she found someone else?”

Anacostia cocked her head to the side. “I wouldn’t know, I can only say how she’s fairing from an academic perspective.”

Ramshorn placed a few bills on the table and left for a long stroll around the city before returning to the base of operations. She sat in the cramped back yard, the hustle and bustle of the house’s occupants, and the pedestrians on the sidewalk filled the otherwise peaceful midmorning air. She hated the monotonous life she was leading now. Bootleg classes more bent on teaching their history than works and recon missions filled her hours, but while she was leagues ahead of her instructors, Scylla remained on thin ice with their generals. She sat at the small picnic table, tracing the S into her palm as usual. She pined after her love, hope slowly leaving her thoughts as the days lingered since they last reconnected. With all of her heart, she couldn’t explain Raelle’s siren-like draw, why every time she thought of the young soldier she felt so elated, even with the possibility that she had moved on.

“Ramshorn.”

Scylla placed her hands flat against the table at the sound of Willa’s voice. “Yes, ma’am?”

General Collar sat across from her, turning her hand over to study the lightly embedded S. “How is my daughter doing?”

“She’s leading a unit. I was told she’s performing quite well and may go on to graduate in the top ten soldiers if she continues this.”

Willa nodded, a small grin appearing over her naturally impartial features. She recomposed herself, folding her hands on the table to begin her proposal. “Ramshorn, would you be capable of bringing Raelle to our side? I would want you to keep a close eye on her for when she next leaves the fort.”

“Of course, ma’am, er yes, ma’am.”

“Good. I can get you some intel from our current contact on the inside, but it will be solely up to you to bring her here. I am relying on you to tell me everything you know, any hiccups or intel you pick up from her. You are going to report straight to me, no longer General Murare.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded, keeping an eye on Willa until she disappeared behind the sliding door.

Scylla bit the inside of her cheek and continued to draw her initial into her hand, tracing the curve over and over again with all of her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

A breath between classes and on her way to the helipad to prepare for a mock drop, Raelle caught up with her old unit. Tally and Abigail waited patiently by their barracks with a sandwich for her. Collar took it from her hands, unwrapping the cling wrap while Tally updated them on her class.

“Oh my gosh, Lieutenant General Richester is on my ass.”

“I feel like all of our instructors are like that. I’m always pulled up for examples,” Raelle muttered through her lunch. “I miss being allowed to screw up, not gonna lie.”

“Ditto,” their High Atlantic amie admitted.

“Richester wants me to lead not only my unit, which isn’t my job but to be a teacher’s aide. I have no idea what I’m doing? I feel like sometimes I have it and other times I’m just missing the mark.”

Raelle finished off the meager food and tossed the balled-up plastic wrap in a bin. “Shit, at least Wick lets me screw up and follow her lead.”

“I just need a break, I miss the Pageant.”

“Me, too, but with all of this Camarilla shit,” Abigail piped in, “I don’t blame Alder for canceling our participation. I feel like things haven’t been this bad with Civilians since the Accord.”

Raelle got sucked into her thoughts, her partner’s mark itching under her glove, as they meandered down the main road. Their ball of energy rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“I miss training with you guys. It was fun at first, but now I fear we’re going to get in deeper than we can even fathom.”

“Poetic way of saying we’re fucked, Tal.” Her eyes wandered the greenbelt where they had all danced almost a year prior, not a care in the world with no ancient enemy at their throats. She felt like an idiot, though, for not connecting Porter’s death to Scylla being Spree. “Would you guys want to go to Beltane this year?”

“If they still hold it,” Bellweather noted.

“They’re not going to cancel that, too? We need Beltane to release tension, especially now.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be going, though.”

“What? I thought you of all people would want to join in?” Collar chuckled, prodding her friend in the side. “Come on, join us, Abigail, join us,” she creepily droned.

The bell tolled for their next class, to the High Atlantic’s relief, “Thank goddess, go to your emergency drop, shitbird.”

“Bye guys,” Raelle cackled, jogging to the helipad.

Out by in the flatlands on the lonely trail, she called out to her unit sister, Josephine, an American-Indonesian private three years older than her. Leviolet turned around, talking with her usual swagger backward, only slowing down slightly. Her scourge lazily wrapped against her leg. 

“Welcome to the plains, Cession,” she chuckled, spinning around with her arms outstretched. “You ready to fly?”

“Always,” she grinned, getting pulled into a side hug. “Frickin’ stoner.”

“Hey, sometimes Salva just doesn’t do it for me.”

“Better weed than Salva,” she muttered. “Hey, have you seen Lauri, today?”

“No, but I know she’s somewhere.”

“Here!” they heard a voice breathlessly echo. “I’m here.”

Graeae sprinted up to them, stumbling to a walk to stay in stride with her sisters. Her black hair was pulled back into a loose bun, which she quickly put up again. Raelle fixed her sisters’ uniforms, making sure they were presentable to their instructor. They found their way to the open field where a helicopter was packed for an emergency airlift, Colonel Wick was intently talking to the pilot in her drop uniform. Raelle stood at attention with her unit as they waited to be acknowledged. The Colonel approached them with a dreaded brown box in her hands.

“Today you will be practicing a drop with the Camarilla’s current silencer seed. Use your Salva and scourge wisely. Get in and get out as quickly as you can to recover the wounded before they need work. Gear up, ladies,”

Raelle let her unit on first and geared up, checking their satchels before giving their pilot the go-ahead. She then sat down with her team, messing with the tin to her Salva. She knew her unit well. Josephine needed to meditate, Laurielle had to pray, and Raelle needed to look at her military issued Salva tin. It wasn’t really hers though, it was Scylla’s. After she went missing, Collar broke into her room and took the altoid looking tin from her footlocker along with a few other objects. She closed her eyes, feeling the S scar under her glove, it gave her a sense of relief to have her in constant contact.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the light switch from red to green. She placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders, placing the Salva patch on her neck and leading the drop. She plummeted to the earth, landing by the dummy and looking around while the silencer seed echoed in the valley.

“Jo, set up the board, Grae check her vitals,” she commanded. Raelle jumped into action with Josephine and rolled the dummy onto the board, standing on it. “We’re set!” she called through the headset and they were lifted off the ground.

While her unit sisters cranked them up, a painful shot hit Collar in the arm, looking down at the white powder. She dropped her head back in annoyance, waiting until they were safely in the chopper before brushing it off. Wick sat in the co-pilot’s spot, marking down their grade. She climbed through and sat down next to their unit leader.

“Perfect time, Private Collar, under a minute and currently the record. I’m taking points off for the wound, though. It should take two soldiers to strap up the wounded and one to defend them. Your final score is 40 out of 50”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she nodded.

In a hushed tone, she asked, “Hey, Collar, where’s your head at? You’re usually a bit quicker on the mark.”

“I apologize that I seem off, I’ll be sure to defend my unit while they work.”

Wick furrowed her brows and went back to the cockpit, leaving the unit alone. Raelle massaged her palm, then held it to her lips, resting until they landed. The unit removed their gear then made their way back to the fort.

“So, how did we do?” Josephine asked.

“40, but I should have defended you two while you worked. She said though, that we had the fastest time, so I believe we’ll finish very well for the real test. How did you guys feel?”

“I’m glad you fixed my knot, the rope slipped and the board would have failed,” she admitted.

“I honestly feel weird doing it on a dummy still, I want to perform it under real circumstances,” Graeae added.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Raelle corrected her. “I think we did a great job, we’ll regroup after and have a little celebration, how does that sound?”

“I got the kush if any of you want to dip into it?”

“Okay,” Laurielle chuckled.

“Awesome, come over to my room then!”

Raelle shook her head and continued down the road to the Shipton Barracks, departing to their various floors, Collar being the last on the fourth floor in an all too familiar room. Once her get-away during basic, the dorm was now a reminder of the love she lost to Alder and her goons. Memories still flashed of her first night with Scylla. She went over the moments, wondering why she was so keen on seeing her specifically. Raelle dressed down to her casual dress, a ratty black shirt with rolled-up sleeves and her colorless tactical pants. She approached the mirror and began to fix her cornrows, unbraiding them, and threading her hands through the strained strands.

A fog appeared over the mirror. Her name was scrawled in capital letters into the steam. Raelle wiped her hand across it to erase the letters, but another fresh layer of steam appeared and her name was redrawn onto it. She backed away from the glass, waiting for the mist to disappear, soon slipping back behind the door to join her old unit for supper. She massaged her forehead, thinning it to be some sort of bizarre fever dream or hallucination from the Salva. Raelle tossed her black tactical gloves on her bed and jogged down to the mess hall where her old unit was currently sitting, an open spot next to them.

“Thank goddess you’re here, I have some bad news,” Tally morbidly began. “Beltane’s probably going to be canceled.”

“Wait, I thought it was just going to be off base this year?” Abigail inquired. “Who said it was canceled?”

“General Clary told me in [class]-”

“Something was written on my mirror,” Raelle interrupted.

“Nothing about what happened in basic, that was so long ago.”

“No, nothing like that. Tally, you said that when you saw Scylla at the wedding, she was talking to a balloon in a mirror and it wrote on the mirror.”

“Yes, do you think Scylla’s mirror was a portal?”

“I don’t know maybe… I’m just tired.”

“Rae, you need to report it to your superior, to Wick.”

“Yeah, I will, I’m gonna go to bed,” she nodded.

“You didn’t eat anything.”

Abigail took the foil-wrapped subway, pushing it into her sister’s hands. “Hey, you have to be careful, but if you need anything, we’re here for you. We need to stick together, no matter what, okay?”

“Of course, I never forget,” she smiled. “I’m gonna take down the mirror and report it. Thanks,” Collar finished with a simple cheer with her food before heading back to her dorm.

Her heart pounded in her chest, it was a connection to the Spree, maybe they could get her in contact with Scylla again, or better yet, break her out. A week in that high-security prison was dangerous, ten months, and Raelle was just glad that the S in her palm kept appearing, but with the possibility to seek out help from her former leaders, maybe Collar could broker a deal with them.

With the door tightly locked, she stood before the mirror, hands outstretched while she jimmied it from its position on the wall. The mist appeared again which shocked her enough to drop the mirror, the glass shattering in its frame. One would think the army would have durable metal mirrors rather than these ratchet reflections.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

A message was still being scrawled across the shards, so Raelle bent down and began to carefully arrange the fractured pieces until the words were in order, a small smear of blood across the reflection.

“I hope you’re still… oh my god,” she choked out. Raelle covered her mouth, hand on the sarcastic phrase before tears began to stream down her face, “Yeah, I’m still sexy weird. Scylla?”

‘The 1 & only’

“Oh my god,” Collar sobbed, a giddy laugh between gasps of air. “Are you safe?”

‘Yes,’ they responded after a minute.

“I’m so sorry for what I said,” she fervently apologized. “I love you, I still do. I don’t know why I said the things I said-”

‘It’s ok, I understand.’

“I never stopped thinking about you, Scyl,” Raelle dabbed the tears from her eyes then smiled at her partner’s response.

‘Have you been kicking ass in class?’

“Yeah, my unit’s doing well, despite the circumstances.”

‘Camarilla?’

“Mmhm, but I know everything will work itself out.”

‘I have 3 min. left do you have another mirror?’

“I can get something.”

‘Good, I can teach this to you.’

“God, I was so scared you were hurt or worse, but when I saw your mark… sometimes it was the only thing getting me through the day. After I got injured, I thought I’d be better off dead, but… I love you.”

‘I love you, too.’

Raelle picked up the pieces, scrounging around for a box to hide the mirror. Once all tucked away, she pulled her gloves on and made her way to Leviolet’s room.

~

Searching through her belongings, Raelle finally happened upon a small mirror on a stand. She went to the box of glass and arranged the pieces once more, awaiting Scylla’s next message. It took a few more minutes, but as the second supper bell rang through the fort, words finally appeared in the mirror. Raelle kneeled over it with a bright smile.

“Hey, Scyl.”

‘Hey, did you find a mirror?’

“Yup, so how do I do this?”

‘Stacc. Sd. 13 & Sd. 15. Draw 🝰.’

“Okay.”

Raelle cleared her throat and began to rapidly switch between the two seed sounds, watching the mirror warp and bend to her voice until it seemed to melt and Scylla appeared on the other side. She couldn’t believe her eyes. With long titian hair pulled back in a tucked french braid, the young dodger seemed to lose her composure and tear up at the sight of her love.

“I’m not gonna lie, I forgot how beautiful you were,” she admitted with a slightly ashamed smile.

“You have red hair, how’d that happen?”

“A long and boring story, but I’m so glad to see you again.”

A startling knock broke their reunion, Raelle hid the mirror under her bed and opened the door, saluting Colonel Wick who stood across the threshold.

“Private Collar, I heard you discovered Spree contraband.”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded, going to her closet to retrieve the shattered mirror. “I accidentally broke it and didn’t know what to do with it.”

The instructor nodded, taking the box of glass, “Thank you, Private. You should go eat something before it’s all gone, I heard they’re serving a specialty tonight.”

“Oh, okay.” She followed her teacher out of her room and down to the first landing.

“I must say that I am quite proud of how far you’ve come. When I initially met you, I had only heard of your powers, but you have proven yourself to be a more than capable witch and competent leader. One day you may become a general alongside the great Sarah Alder. You’re truly a natural first responder. You have a bright future ahead of you if you stay the course. Have you figured out what’s got you in your funk?”

“It’s just… I’m still dealing with the loss of my mother and a dear loved one.”

“I suggest you use that loss next unit as you will be paired with a Necro unit to learn how to deal with major injuries.”

“I’ll figure out how to fix it,” she agreed, tearing away to join the other witches in the cafeteria. She found her spot by Tally and Abigail, instantly earning an arm slap from Craven. “Ow, why?”

“Why are you so late, I have more news about Beltane.”

“News or rumors?”

“We’re having Beltane on Pageant ground this year, so we get to leave! You know what that means!”

“You can have sex for the first time in a year?”

“Shut up… and yes, Biddies don’t get to have fun. We can dress up for the occasion! So, I have some magazines we can choose our outfits from. Bring over your best clothes and we’ll make the decision.”

“Does this mean we’re going to be matching?”

“Yeah!”

“As long as I don’t have to wear a dress or skirt.”

“We should wear High Atlantic fashion, umbacos are all the rage... like, Xhosa dresses?” Abigail suggested.

“Oh, eh, I don’t know, sounds a bit boring,” Tally shrugged off. “Okay, scarf down your food and meet in my dorm in fifteen.”

They finished off their meals, Raelle going to her room and ripping out her suit from the previous Beltane along with a few dress shirts. She raced to the second floor to Craven’s place, the door instantly opening.

“You Know everything, don’t you?”

“Funny pun,” she responded, sticking her tongue out. Once inside, Tally awkwardly phrased, “Hey, if you go to Beltane, do you think you’ll find another partner?”

She hadn’t thought about the slim chance, but it gave her pause before confirming, “I don’t think so. I know Scylla was troubled, but I could never love another person nearly as much as I loved her. I’ll just have fun, hopefully Byron’ll be there, I haven’t seen him in a hot second.”

“Yo,” Abigail greeted with an armful of dresses. “I got the goods, what did you bring?”

Their High Atlantic Princess tutted their clothes and displayed her outfits for them both to look upon. Tally pulled out a knee-length blue-grey Xhosan style dress with black and white lines. It garnered a simple design, but when worn, hugged her chest and waist before elegantly flaring out over her hips. They continued to search through the catalogs, pointing at various dresses, going through the mini-committee until they all agreed upon a modern dark muted blue dress that had long lace sleeves and a collar that came up around her neck. Finally, the unit went through the blazer section, finding civilian suits decorated with gold and silver decals over pastel bases. Raelle flipped through the section, really not wanting to spend any money until an ornate sports suit caught her eye. Zigzagged in gold, the muted blue suit was marked down from $219.99 to $150 and even less with a military discount.

“Ooh, I love it!” Tally exclaimed. “I can put the orders in and hopefully we’ll get them soon!”

“I frickin’ hope so, these are fucking sexy,” Bellweather agreed.

~

“So, if you don’t wanna see me dancin with somebody,” the witches chanted at the back of the bus, definitely annoying their driver. Raelle played with the lapel of her suit, swinging her hips standing on her seat while Tally steadied her. Abigail joined her at the bridge, singing, “Aren’t you the guy who tried to hurt me with the word ‘goodbye’? Though it took some time to survive you. I’m better on the other side!” On the side, Josephine was passing around her edibles, looking up at her unit leader while Laurielle danced in her seat. They collectively squealed at the next song that came up.

“Wake up in the mornin’ feelin’ like P Diddy grab my glasses, I’m out the door, I’m ‘bout to hit the city. Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of jack ‘cause when I leave for the night I ain’t coming back!”

To the driver’s delight, they finally arrived at the Pageant grounds in time for the song to end. The excited witches filed off of the bus, Raelle and her sisters being last. Abigail kept the speaker on while they waited.

They danced their way to the entrance, where she sarcastically remarked, “I like girls, can I still take sausage?”

Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose at her words, responding, “Sa-sa-sa-sa-sausage.”

“This is gonna be the best Beltane ever!” Tally giggled.

They split ways before the festivities. Being older, the witches got sloppy seconds from their sisters in basic. Some of the boys seemed completely wiped out while most others gave their subjects their full attention. As if drawn together by some other force, she felt a cold glass prod her in the back, turning to Byron who towered over her with a watermelon daiquiri. She accepted his offering and immediately hugged him.

“My beard!”

“My… My beard!”

“I’m so glad you’re here! How have you been?”

“Great, better now that I found another person with my taste,” he joked, taking a sip of his drink. “So this time I take it I won’t have to push you to dance?”

“You might have to catch up with me,” Raelle smirked as Tansey took her spot to officially announce Beltane for Fort Salem’s students. She quickly finished off her drink and dragged Byron to the dance floor for the Reel. “Mm, come on!”

“I’m not finished!” he chortled, tossing the remainder of his cocktail back, kicking off his shoes as the pagan music began.

The pulsing drums and mystical woodwinds struck a chord within the young witches’ primal urges. They all let go, and danced, switching partners in controlled chaos. Raelle released her grip on Byron’s hand, then found Josephine in the mess and had a turn with her, her vibrant gunne sax dress fluttering with every twist and leap. The bagpipes formed a tidal wave of energy, every breath they took in line with his own while the drums encouraged their hearts to run rampant on the dance floor. A young man in scarlet took her waist, spinning her around and dipping her, his hand traveling up her chest and neck before releasing her to find another partner. She caught another witch in red, letting her grind up on her for a quick second, then taking her hand to spin her into Abigail’s arms.

The music’s once elegant melody took on a darker tone when the bass drummer took over, a moment for everyone to regain their senses and find another partner. The bass increased in tempo and intensity letting the anticipation build-up for their next partner. A hand crept across her hips in the soothing seconds. Instinct overpowered her senses, leaning into the stranger’s grasp and whirling around, captivated by a set of mesmerizing blue eyes. Raelle instantly backed away from the trick. ‘The hallucination,’ she thought, and out of the mystical draw of the dance floor. She must have taken too much from Josephine’s stash to be seeing Scylla before her.

A bell tolled from the stage as the band struck up with a jolly tone again, this time a cornett leading them. Raelle found herself getting dragged back out of the fray and to the center where her gloves were torn from her hands and tossed aside to finally make contact with the mirage. The bagpipes blared again to signal another tonal change, and thus a new partner. Raelle clung onto her, tugging her in by her hips to kiss her. Electricity tore through her core when their lips connected, but she soon released her hold only to be whisked away by another witch in yellow. Raelle kept searching the crowd, catching a glimpse of wild red hair through the openings. Raelle tore through the crowd to find her again. Crushed and shoved by her peers, she dove through small openings, wide eyes searching across the dance floor for her familiar features. A vice grip wrapped around her lapel and twirled her around, making her slip and land flat on her ass.

Raelle looked up again into those intense irises she had fallen for a year prior. Breathless, she gazed upon her partner’s valiant pose, her short black dress swaying with the breeze under the afternoon sun. She quickly scrambled to her feet, attacking Scylla with another passionate kiss. Ramshorn stumbled back, taking a moment to draw her into the dark forest, away from the prying eyes of the military.

Collar gasped for air once again from the relentless assault of pecks and kisses against a dense tree in the oak grove. She felt pleasantly overwhelmed by her presence, trying to entrap her lips anytime she pulled away. Her heart pounded in her chest, blood pulsing through her body enough to stave off the cool weather.

Raelle finally relented and wrapped her arms around her waist then tucked her forehead against her neck, inhaling the slightly floral scent that sent a wave of relief through her buzzing head. Once she found her footing, she loosened her grip to regard Scylla’s new look in the dark.

“Good God,” she whispered as her partner attacked her once more with a series of breathtaking kisses.

Scylla wrapped her hands around her hips digging her fingers into her pelvis as she shoved her against the oak again. With deft fingers, she flicked open her partner’s blazer and reached underneath to feel her delicate pale skin in her palm. Her heart fluttered with excitement at how putty Collar became in her hands with soft sighs against her lips at her actions. With her free hand, Scylla tugged open her black military issued tactical belt, struggling with the buckle until she loosened it enough to unbutton and unzip her trousers.

“Fuck,” she chuckled in frustration.

Dipping beneath her suit pants, a nervous ball wadded up in Scylla’s stomach at the instant contact with her partner’s wet briefs. Fingers drenched even through the layer of clothing, she tracked them through her slick center, circling around her clit before rushing back through the grool.

The young soldier gripped tightly onto her shoulder, letting her girlfriend tip her head back against the tree for access to her neck. Soft nips and kisses against her neck intensified her arousal and once Scylla slipped her hand underneath her briefs, Raelle felt embarrassingly close to finishing. She groaned softly into the night air, her pounding heart making it harder to stand.

Ramshorn couldn’t fend off the overwhelming power her partner exuded as every increasingly sensitive groan made the air between them electric. Her fingers slipped over Raelle’s clit, rolling around the bundle of nerves still slick with grool. Collar gritted her teeth, her eyes squeezing shut at her teasing motion, a sharp flood of arousal overtaking her emotions when her partner pushed against her harder. She broke their kiss to tip her head back against the tree, her breath becoming steam in the chilled air around them.

Irrepressible passion boiled over into her orgasm, making her fingers dig deep into Scylla’s shoulder blades and neck. Through pursed lips, the young witch let out a long low groan, her hips rolling against her hand, even though she was still sensitive.

Raelle relaxed against the tree, sliding down the rough bark. She looked up at her girlfriend and watched her kneel before her. Reaching out, the months of composure finally gave way to the mixed sorrow and relief she felt at seeing her. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and dropped to her bare chest. Scylla wrapped her arms around her, her own emotions getting to her, too. She chuckled through the tears and buried her face in her girlfriend’s pale blonde hair, her floral perfume only slightly tainted by their sweaty Reel. They clung onto one another, shaking sobs and huffs cycled through their dwindling moments together.

Ramshorn finally pulled away, still holding her hands to soothe her as she explained, “It’s confusing, but please believe me when I say that I was released by one of Alder’s right hands. I’ve been the liaison between the Spree and one of your own.”

“You’re back with the Spree?”

“I’m trying to get my people to join Alder against the Camarilla,” she mindlessly noted, occupied by Raelle’s longer than usual fingernails. Her eyes drifted up to the scar over her heart and gently brushed her fingers over the uneven tissue.”Did they do this to you?” Raelle pulled her hand away. Scylla pursed her lips through worried eyes, “They’ll pay for what they did.”

“Don’t say that, don’t say that. I’m tired of revenge, it festers and kills innocent people,” she whispered.

“Don’t you feel any bit of anger because of it?”

“Of course, but if we focus on revenge, we only fuel the Camarilla’s anger,” Raelle explained. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Scylla respectfully nodded in response and brushed her lips against her scar before kissing her. Her partner responded in kind and unzipped her dress, letting it fall from her shoulders. In a controlled manifestation of passion, Collar bit her lip, pulling away when the dodger tried to nip her back. She stood up, hand held out for her partner to take, then pressed her against the tree. Raelle sank to her knees to tug the dress and spanx over her hips, letting them collect around her ankles.

She pushed herself back up, gawking at her pale skin under the moonlight as she recalled every freckle she kissed or traced in curious boredom after class. Her shimmering birthmark at the back of her neck that trickled sparse freckles across her scapula to her shoulders, stomach, then thighs. Raelle rubbed soothing circles over her witch mark and kissed her again. She missed these tender moments between them, cooling off in a moment of clarity before delving back into their intimacy.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured against her lips.

Collar kicked her feet further apart and sank to her knees. She glanced up at Scylla, carefully regarding her apprehensive glance. Her heart pounded in her chest with every inch closer to her, letting her hands glide up her thighs then track around her hips to relieve her nerves. Raelle firmly held onto the back of her legs and scooted close enough to wrap her mouth around her core.

The young Fixer sucked and rolled her tongue over her clit, glancing up when Scylla threaded her hand through her pale blonde hair. She pulled her girlfriend’s leg over her shoulder and went deeper, evoking light moans from her. Raelle kept her balance with a firm hand gripping the bark and another keeping Scylla up as her knees began to lock up in anticipation.

“Rae,” she gasped into the night, no request trailing after it.

Collar rubbed her hand up Scylla’s spine, feeling the heaving gasps that reverberated through her body. A sudden bolt of energy charged through her as she heard her partner’s lustful urgings over the ecstatic moans that wove and echoed in the dark forest.

Scylla ground against her tongue, the itching pleasure peeling away any sentiment of fear she harbored from their sudden rencontre. She reached down and clasped her hand over her partner’s vice grip on her leg. Her heart pounded like a drum beneath her ribs, sucking in air through her teeth. Seething moans vibrated through her lips until she finally came, squeezing Raelle’s hand as she tried to regain her balance.

“I love you,” Collar admitted with chaste pecks against her thigh. She stood up again, leaning back against her again, pulling away at the warning toll of bells. “No,” she choked out. “I don’t want to lose you again.” Raelle pulled Scylla into a vice embrace.

Ramshorn crossed her arms across her chest and tucked her head into the crook of her neck. “You don’t have to, Rae.”

“What do you mean?”

“... Come with me. Join the Spree and be free.”

“No, I can’t abandon my unit,” she instantly answered. “But stay in contact with me, please. Keep trying for peace so I can see you again before I graduate.” Raelle passionately kissed her again until the second tolling of the bell, commanding them to get dressed. “God, I love you more than I can even describe.”

“Please, come with me then.”

“I can’t, Scyl.”

“Okay,” she whispered through a dashed tone. She dug through her dress pockets and pulled out a wooden combat charm, pinning it to her blazer. Scylla whispered a protective work over it. “Just promise me you’ll come out on the other side. Go, Rae.”

Collar looked down at the charm over her heart and kissed her again, unwilling to release her. With tears in her eyes, Scylla pushed her away and disappeared past the glades.


	2. Chapter 2

Raelle watched her disappear in the dark, standing frozen by the tree even as the third bell tolled. She clutched her hand over her heart before breaking out of her trance to her unit calling out for her. Unwillingly, Collar turned around and fled the woods where Josephine was struggling with threading the string through the front of her dress.

“There you are. I tell you, these boys really fuck with me, in more ways than one,” she added as a joke. A realization hit her when she noticed Raelle’s tousled hair and flush hickey speckled skin. “Looks like you got some, too. Wanna dish now or wait until we’re all together?” They heard the bell ring for the witches as a final warning. “Come on before we get in trouble.”

Leviolet gave up on threading it and tossed it around her neck while droning on about her night with a fellow witch whom she shared with. Most of the details the Healer prodigy ignored as she focused on Scylla’s taste that lingered on her tongue and lips. Finally, they made their way on their bus, shuffling to the back through the various conversations that filled the vehicle. Salacious details of their encounter with traded secrets and tricks of the trade flooded Collar’s ears, pulling her back into reality long enough to hear Tally recount her own romp that afternoon. She nodded and smiled at her friend’s fun, but an emptiness ate away at her stomach. The moment she had shared with her soulmate was beautiful and long-awaited, but now she wanted more, she wanted to stay and cuddle with her, talk and joke about the military like they did when she was still in basic. It almost made her sick at the thought that that may have been their last moment together, still bickering but loving each other.

A tender hand brushed across her shoulder blades, not Scylla’s, and drew her from her toxic regrets. Tally gave her a kind, yet worried grin.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I saw her,” she managed to choke out. Her heart ached at the mere thought.

“Who?” Tally leaned in enough to hopefully not wake the sleeping Bellweather beside her. 

Raelle shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off any harsh emotion while they were on the bus. Quickly wrapped in her friend’s embrace, she broke down into a sniffling mess in her arms. She hated having to deal with emotions like that, anything that wasn’t anger was almost impossible for her to comprehend and as much as she wanted to push Craven away, it felt like the only place she could have a moment of grief for once again leaving her love.

It only lasted a few minutes, but the remainder of the ride was just as torturous. It wasn’t until they reconvened in Raelle’s room, her current unit leaving them to sleep up their cum drunk, and alcohol drunk, state. Tally sat beside her melancholy friend while Abi watched from the desk below her new Spree-free mirror. With the window open, a few conversations could be heard below while other witches chattered in the halls. High-strung silence drifted amongst the young soldiers before

Abi finally asked, “Who is ‘her’?” With no answer, she began to guess. “Scylla?” Earning a tense stare, she leaned back in the chair. “Are you sure you didn’t have… I don’t know, a bad trip?”

“It was weed, not shrooms,” Craven corrected her. “You don’t trip on weed, you just get relaxed.”

“I don’t know much about drugs, High Atlantic society looks down upon non-witch made products.”

“Wait don’t you have a-”

“How did neither of you see her. She was dancing with us. I danced with her. She probably had a turn with or near one of you?” Raelle finally interrupted. “I had her in my arms and- how- why did I let her go again?” Frustrated tears began to peak over her lashes before drying again. Tears got her nowhere, they only made it harder to think. “Errg, I feel like I’m going crazy.” She took a breath in her hands before continuing, “She was there, it really was her.”

“We aren’t saying we don’t believe you, we’re just as confused as you are. How did she escape that prison?” Tally carefully inquired.

“Someone released her before she was supposed to be transferred.”

“Who broke her out? Where has she been for the past year?” Bellweather cut in.

“With the Spree.”

“Excuse me? We have to tell someone.” Abigail stood up, reaching out for the door until Raelle plastered herself across to block her.

“Wait, don’t, she isn’t hurting anyone. I swear.”

“How would you know what she’s been up to if you haven’t seen her since we were deployed?”

“Abigail,” Tally corrected her.

“God, you’re just like Anacostia, you’ve always had it out for her,” Collar accused her old leader.

“Not always.”

“You’re right, not when she was locked up and had a possibility of rotting away in a prison!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so easily controlled by your vag, we wouldn’t have to intervene.”

“Guys, stop,” Craven protested.

Ignoring her words, the Blaster continued, “You mean when she was going to get justice for sneaking onto a military base and trying to steal you. And you almost went with her! If you forgot, she got you in trouble on more than one occasion.”

“Don’t rat on her, she’s one of us!”

“She’s a traitor, and so is the person who let her go.”

“She’s a closer cousin to you than I am, that’s for damn sure.”

“What, you mean just because she’s pure and not a Cur like you I should just let her off easy?”

“What did you just call me!” Raelle spat with a firm shove.

Abigail stumbled back, fury in her eyes. “I’m just trying to protect you, Raelle.”

“I know what’s best for me.”

“You know what, I’m sorry I even went to Beltane, you always cause some sort of drama.” Abigail opened the door, sending Raelle flying from her position, and stomped out of the room.

“Wait, Abi!” their ball of sunshine called after her. “I’m sorry, I’ll see you tomorrow though.”

Raelle sat on the ground, her eyes to the ceiling while she listened to Tally try to calm their friend down. Once their voices faded, she kicked the door closed with a firm slam. She slowly rose to her feet, spotting Craven’s bag on the bed. She lifted it up and three flasks came tumbling out of it. In all of the drama, Collar burst out into a fit of laughter, opening one with an intoxicatingly sweet scent of fermented fruit. She took a quick swig of the brew and relaxed into her uncomfortable cot.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck, I’m… in deep shit,” Scylla breathlessly sighed in realization out of the woods. She glanced over her shoulder still seeing the silvery hair in the distance, whether it was her lover’s. Stopping in her tracks, she whispered, “I love you.” At the utterance of those words, she felt a wave of comfort take the edge off of her escape.

Shuffling witches neared her in the darkness and boisterous laughter filled the woods. Scylla tore through the night until she reached the edge of the Salem forest, finding her car waiting behind a bush. She leaped into the driver's side and turned over the engine, hoping to not get caught on her way off of Pageant ground. Her heart pounded in her chest from escaping the military to now having to face Willa back home. She blasted the radio, some civilian music station that was talking about the attacks from the Camarilla. One of the DJs was in valliant support while the other angrily argued that the fault was by the Spree’s hand and that the Camarilla were killing innocent witches who may not have even presented as witches. She nervously switched stations until she found one playing a commercial rather than reporting on the fall of the United States.

Scylla replayed the moments in her head, the movements and motions that culminated in their night at Beltane. She finally pulled up before the flat and drove into the narrow garage. She could already spot Willa’s silhouette on the second landing, pacing around as she waited in the hope of finally seeing her daughter. She took a few breaths before entering the hidden headquarters.

It was almost vacant save for the hushed voices she heard in the backyard and the normal guards making their rounds in the neighbourhood. Scylla ascended the staircase to the second landing and where their leader anxiously awaited. She knocked on the office door and waited at attention when it was opened.

She carefully read her reaction, anxious hope, and love instantly falling from her familiar features. Disappointment then took over before anger began to peer through. Like mother, like daughter as Ramshorn’s heart sank at the memories that resurfaced.

“Raelle doesn’t want to leave anymore.”

“Thank you, you are dismissed,” Willa stated in a final tone.

Scylla blinked a few times then went to her quarters in surprise at how easily she was let off. She went through her belongings and pulled out the small mirror she had connected with the younger Collar, signaling to talk, but earning no response. She tipped her head back to the bed above her and escaped to the back lot to talk with her peers.

They were huddled around a fire pit making s’mores and drinking. She took a spot between a younger witch, Khalia Grennich, and a male witch, Tadgh Neil. They weren’t her friends, but it was better than being alone surrounded by secretive and emotionally bereft veterans and dodgers. She was passed a brew while Neil impressed the women around him with some simple works he had cooked up during passing period. 

“So, where were you off to? You have a certain glow about you tonight,” Khalia mentioned.

“I just got back from a mission.”

“Looks like it went well?”

“For better or worse, yes. What are you doing out here?”

“Masters was going over spatial manipulation but she was pulled away by General Collar.”

“Great,” Scylla murmured. “Hey, pass me a stick-thing.” Khalia rolled her eyes and tossed a roasting fork at her. “Chill.”

One of the girls leaned around the pyre of smoke that rolled in her direction. “Hey, have you guys heard that we may be joining the military’s forces?”

“Why?” Tadgh interjected.

“I don’t know, Murare was talking about creating our own force against the Camarilla instead of joining Alder.”

“I’d rather do that than ever join that woman,” another witch chimed in. Scylla sank back into her seat, roasting a marshmallow until it charred into a black and gooey mess. “Hey, you good there Euryale?”

“Huh, yeah,” Scylla nodded, letting it burn out before squishing it between graham crackers.

“Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I know it isn’t my place, but we shouldn’t be led by a witch willing to submit to the military. We’ve worked too hard for too long to let it happen.”

“You’re literally a secretary, Tadgh does more and he just flirts with us,” Grennich pointed out.

“Well do you want to bow to Alder and that Civ President?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” the young witch nodded. “What do you think?”

Scylla looked up from her snack, licking the liquid chocolate from her fingers. “Oh, I would hate to be under her thumb, she’s a nightmare. Seems like one at least.”

“Enough questioning, this isn’t the fucking Spanish Inquisition,” Khalia interrupted.

“But no one expects a Spanish Inquisition!” Tadgh laughed.

“Let’s just relax. I got Incohearent while I was out.” Greenwich pulled the card game from the table.

“Finally, some real fun,” Scylla noted.

“Are we not company enough?” Tadgh prodded her.

“Not when I’m only one drink in,” she continued, holding out her empty bottle for him to switch out. “Thank you, swain. So, how do you play this game?”

~

Hangovers were the worst for Scylla. She turned her head, instantly face to face with Tadgh then turned the other way to Khalia. She rolled her eyes and slid out from under the blanket, letting the other witches resettle themselves while she left the frozen yard. Dew covered the grass and teenagers, glittering in the sun while they snoozed in the few minutes of silence before they had to report to their superiors. Scylla regarded their motionless bodies, imagining that’s what Raelle must have looked like when they airlifted her from the battlefield. Her heart uncontrollably ached at the idea before she sat on the porch step.

“Ramshorn,” Willa quietly interrupted. “I’ve had some time to think about how to… deal with my daughter’s response. I want you to stay in contact with her since she actually listens to you. Tell your contact that I am willing to meet with Alder no matter the consequence. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Scylla nodded.

Ramshorn listened to her patterned footsteps retreat into the house before she went back to her somber thoughts. She recounted last night’s excursion from sneaking onto sacred ground to touching Raelle again. At reliving that moment, her heart began to beat furiously in her chest, echoing in her ears while she thought about the moments after. Their fiery passion then subsequently fulfilled desires tore through her recent memories, staining her subconscious to hold her over until they met again.

She shot up and followed her leader to her office. “Wait, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, come in.” Collar closed the door behind her.

“How do you keep hope in all of this?”

“Because I must. I have hope that we’ll live in harmony, no longer slaves, or hunted down like animals. I hold onto the hope that Raelle will be allowed to like a normal person. Something we aren’t allowed, something you and Raelle, Edwin, and I have, to love someone, to have a companion there for more than just creating new life.”

“Why did you leave him behind, why not take everyone with you?”

“Being a dodger is much harder than the world thinking you’re dead.”

“I understand.”

“I’m going to brew some tea. Come by in a while instead of class so we can talk.”

“Being commanded to skip class, how unconventional.”

“It’s more of a pardon than getting to play hooky.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Raelle awoke with a raging hangover and cold in her bed. She closed her eyes again then willed herself to get out of her room and clean up. Her head pulsed while she pulled on her uniform, buttoning up her jacket and braiding her hair. Collar’s fingers felt clumsy in her sleepy stupor while she fixed herself up. Recounting the events from the night prior, she smiled at their festivities but soon cringed at her argument with Abigail, one of her closest friends and savior. She shook her head like she wanted to be saved, now she was stuck as a war hero, no longer allowed to screw up being under close scrutiny by her peers and instructors. For the first time in months, Raelle pondered her own existence, worried that it was all a cruel mistake, but deep inside, she felt that unbreakable connection to the one she loved. She saw death, the born from the ashes was a soldier, prepared to die for her country.

The young private took a deep breath before collecting Tally’s belongings, returning them to the second floor where she was greeted by her friend.

“Naughty naughty, you took a page out of my book,” she chuckled, returning the bag of booze. “I’m proud.” She read the concerned look on her face, not even needing to connect to know something happened after Abigail stormed out. “What did she do?”

“She… she didn’t do anything. She just went to be with her unit.”

“Mhm,” Raelle nodded. “Then what did you do?”

“Nothing,” she obviously lied.

“Don’t make me connect with you.”

“That’s unfair… and invasive!” Tally claimed.

“Did you tell someone about Scylla?” Craven bit her lip and shrugged. “You can’t be indecisive about it, it’s yes or no.”

“Then no, I didn’t say that Scylla was there, but I did tell her that you and Abigail were fighting about her again.”

“Who did you tell?” Raelle seethed.

Tally shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t know that Scylla was there.”

“You two always go over my head, like you think you’re protecting me! I don’t need protecting, I’ve been pretty good on my own.” Raelle put her hand on Tally’s shoulder and began to connect with her, reciting the familiar verse while she read her. “You told Anacostia.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Scylla left for the kitchen, anything to forget about having to battle wills with Quartermaine early in the morning. Through the parlor room’s window, Scylla spotted the nosy drill sergeant walking past in her usual rounds. Ramshorn grabbed her belongings from the third landing then jogged out to catch her in a more secluded portion of her route.

Hidden in the nook of a pet shop and record store, she waited until the soldier passed.

“Hey, Costia,” she called from the alley.

Quartermaine’s footsteps abruptly stopped before returning. “Scylla,” she nodded. “You’re looking quite vibrant today.”

“That makes it sound like you know something.”

The drill sergeant smirked and nodded, “Let’s grab a drink.”

She agreed with a brief nod as they walked to the coffee shop. Usual orders in and their secluded spot by the jukebox, Anacostia relaxed in her chair.

“Breakfast instead of coffee, finally cutting back?”

“I thought I’d try something different.”

“I heard you found your way on Pageant ground.” She earned an annoyed glance from Scylla. “You’re lucky it was only me who found out. If someone caught you, if Alder caught you, you would be killed on the spot. What were you doing there anyway, trying to get to Raelle again?”

“As a matter of fact, yes besides, what does it matter to you? Is the army still after me?”

“You are an open tab, but I was more concerned if Raelle, a star pupil were to go missing after Beltane. The raucous would cause even more of a strain on our current predicament.”

“Okay mom,” Scylla agreed. Anacostia produced a letter from her inner jacket pocket. “What is that?”

“A proposal from the general herself.”

“Oh, so she knows about this? A great day to be mom’s favorite?”

“Take it to your leader or I can tell the General you have refused her gracious offer.”

“Perfect timing, I’m in a good mood today.” She accepted the letter, twirling it in her hands as they waited to be served. “I always hate when we finish ahead of schedule.”

“Do you have any questions I may be able to answer?”

“Is there any way that at the end of this we could be allowed to live among the civilians?”

“I highly doubt it. Many have died at your hands, consider your consequences postponed until our enemy has been dealt with.” Quartermaine pulled out another paper. “You put up such a harsh front, but I now understand we are not very different from one another.”

“Did you go digging into my past, or are you going-” Scylla looked down at the photograph, one stolen from her belongings. “More into my stuff. Why did you keep this?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want it to burn.”

“Do you have anything else?”

“I might have rescued a few things, but I know that Raelle did the same.”

“Raelle,” she whispered. “How is she?”

“I only know her grades.”

“Do you not talk?”

“I have no time to talk personally with her.”

“Too busy training your next victims?”

“Soldiers, like you, and probably many of your new friends.”

Scylla took her drink and nodded, “Well, I appreciate our time together, I will catch up with you later with a response.” She pulled out a few folded bills from her pocket and placed them on the table. “My treat, do what you want with the extra.”

“You don’t want the picture?”

“Yes,” she agreed, swiping the photo from her fingertips. “Thank you. I will get this to our general.”

“General?”

Scylla only rolled her eyes and meandered back to the house, stopping at a convenience store to pick up some tea cookies. Upon entering the house, she could hear the tea kettle whistling from the kitchen, then the rushed footsteps from the second landing. Willa revealed herself, going past her to pour their drinks.

“You’re back in time. Here, pick one,” she offered, sliding over a glass box of dried flowers and leaves. “Rosehip, that’s my favorite, too.” She put them in a metal clasp and let the tea steep until the water turned a vibrant pink and red. “Come follow me.”

“Oh, I also got some biscotti,” Scylla offered.

“I haven’t had that in years.”

Ramshorn followed her close behind, watching her housemates bustle around to their lessons. She entered the simple office and sat across from the general.

“So, this isn’t hooky, it’s a pardon?” Scylla inquired.

“Think of it more as a private lesson. My generals are great teachers to students with little to no experience with works like Tadgh and Rya, but for students like you, they tend to be better sparring partners. I thought I’d try to help you with my vast knowledge,” she teased, ending with a calming sip of tea. “I had an awakening years ago on tour in the east, it was the first place I was stationed fresh out of college. I must say I learned a lot from the witches there. They have mastered a very special type of work that focuses on one’s inner peace and is expelled through your hands.”

“Work done without their voices, how?”

“That is your first lesson. A lieutenant taught me techniques far more powerful than anything taught to our special forces. They rely on resolving inner turmoil, voiding oneself of fear, and anguish. Come, join me on the floor.” Willa pleasantly invited, kneeling on the floor after stealing another sip from her cup. When Scylla joined her, she began. “They call them chakras, you have seven total and the great witches of India have honed all seven and thus have mastered works without wearing down their vocal cords.”

“Do they use seed sounds at all?”

“They do, but it’s seen as archaic and brutish, kind of like how our military views Christo-Pagan works. I want you to close your eyes and take a breath.” Silence filled the room before she continued.

“Does this work for necromancy?” she inquired through a peaked eye.

“You can do more than what Alder believes. Sure the Indian witches have those who excel in healing and those who have a great sense of their surroundings, but they believe in a well-rounded witch. One who on her own can keep balance in their environment. Close your eyes and straighten your back. Take a deep breath to the pit of your stomach, then feel it rise through your sinuses and finally out of your nose. In... and out.” She took a few deep breaths with her. “Clear your mind,” her voice took on a calming tremor, lower and quieter than before. “Let go of your earthly pleasures and focus on your fears, your anxieties. Where does your darkness come from?”

Scylla furrowed her brows and pondered her question. “My parents’ deaths.”

“What else do you see.”

“I see… darkness, hatred, and anger.”

“Emotions are rooted in two reactions, love and fear.”

“Then fear. Dark fear,” Scylla murmured. She felt emotions begin to surface. “It’s all I see, murky like a swamp. I feel afraid of it like it’s run rampant.”

“Why does it scare you?”

“It’s too powerful, I can’t stop it.”

“But there is light, you can see it, what does it look like?”

“It’s…” Scylla cleared her throat. “Nevermind.”

“It’s Raelle isn’t it? She’s my hope, too.” Scylla nodded at Willa’s words. “Center yourself again and straighten your back.” Ramshorn took a few more breaths. “Hope is rooted in love, and while it may not seem it now, love is a powerful emotion, deeply rooted in humanity, in all life around us. It works alongside fear in harmony. Without darkness, we wouldn’t know light, and without light, we wouldn’t be alive. Use your light to dim the darkness.”

“I can’t, it’s too dark.”

“Take deep breaths, Scylla,” Willa whispered.

She nodded and continued to breathe, relaxing her muscles while still forcing them to be stiff. Cooling fingertips were pressed against her temples. She felt the world suddenly drop beneath her. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach while she tried to figure out how to stop.

“Scylla, relax, find your hope.”

She covered her face, shaking her head. “I can’t!”

Her heart pounded in her chest, waiting to stop until hands pulled her wrists down. She opened her eyes, now looking at the calm features of Raelle. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Collar sprinted from Tally’s room to the main building their instructors resided in. She raced through the hallways to Anacostia’s office, knocking fervently to hopefully get her. No sign and no light, she wasn’t there. Raelle took a few deep breaths and rested her forehead against the dense window with Quartermaine’s name on it.

“Private Collar?”

Raelle turned around to Isadora. “Ma’am, good morning.” She quickly saluted the necromancy teacher.

“Good morning, how are you doing?”

“I’m good, I just wanted to ask Anacostia something. She’s not here, though.”

“No, she’s out, but I’m sure she’ll be back before the day’s up.”

“Maybe I can ask you, then.”

“I have about twenty minutes before my office hours, so why don’t you follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So, what is your query?”

“I was wondering…” Raelle took a moment to form a thought around Scylla, and hopefully not waste the necromance teacher’s time. “What do we do with your students? You work with the dead and Healers are trying to keep people alive?”

“Life’s interesting in that sense,” she noted, opening the door down to the Necromancy building. “Our works are complex and diverse in nature. General Alder has based the works we use off of the Tarim Nomads whose works can shape the world as you probably witnessed in person.” She let Raelle into her office and began to brew tea. “Is jasmine tea alright with you? Or are you more of a green tea gal?”

“Which has more caffeine?”

“Green tea,” she informed her, taking out a jar from her desk drawer. Isadora took a few more moments of searching to find a package of tea cookies, the sound of wrappers shuffling before she took out a box of macaroons

“Do you only have food in your desk?”

“I don’t see why not? While we wait for this to steep to perfection, I’ll go ahead and answer your question. We pair you together to work alongside the cycle of life. Necromancers are a curious breed of sorts. We can reanimate the dead and create life from corpses on the battlefield, our main job now. The upcoming unit is mostly for educational purposes rather than practical. In combat, we are separated, but we found that Necromancers and Healers who understand more about the cycle and delicacy of life are better soldiers.” She began pouring their drinks. “Understanding what death means is a gift, one that goes under-appreciated, in my opinion. I have to prep the lab, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Please, help yourself to the macaroons, they’re delicious.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As suddenly as she had plummeted through the floor, she stopped. Scylla closed her eyes and took a few breaths.

“Good, use the light to guide you and follow your fears,” the spirit echoed in comfort. She took her hand and led her through the darkness, stumbling over rubble and trees. “What do you fear most?”

“Losing you.” Scylla felt everything grow darker. “I fear who I am. All I know is darkness and death. I understand that life and death are cyclical, but why can’t I feel it? It all seems to stop for me. Death is born from light, but light doesn’t come from death.”

“Everything is connected, even we are connected.” Raelle produced her hand with the deep scar embedded in her palm. “Look within yourself, through the darkness, you are light.”

Scylla closed her eyes and began to center herself. She recounted her life, sorrow tearing through her at the memory of watching her parents before Alder’s firing line, slaughtered with other parents she grew up learning from. Ancient techniques were lost to senseless deaths. Anger fueled her heart again and she squeezed onto Raelle’s hand harder.

“Let go of your fears.”

“I don’t want to lose you, too, Raelle,” she began to weep. “I’ve already lost so much.”

“Find hope, I will be fine. You’ll always know where I am and how I am,” she smiled, placing a hand over her heart.

Scylla nodded and took a few breaths, her fears satiated by Raelle’s light. The land warmed and brightened, revealing a decaying landscape, dead trees weeping, and bending to the cracked roads.

“What is this place?” She knelt down to pick a mushroom that instantly disintegrated in her palm. “Everything is dead.”

“Not dead, but not thriving. You must find balance within yourself,” her voice echoed. “Next we will work on your second chakra. Where do you source your works from?”

“You,” Scylla whispered.

“Your sacral chakra is deeply rooted in sexual and creative energies, something you excel in.”

“I only create darkness.”

“You can change your outlook, you told me about how life comes from death which follows in a constant cycle. You are life incarnate.”

“Why do you still love me? Our initial love was a lie?”

“But does that still hold true?”

“Not at all. I found something in you I couldn’t find in myself.”

“What did you find?”

“Life.” At those words, the ash in her hand manifested into a death cap. “Creative energies, like life?”

“Exactly. Onto your third chakra, centered in your stomach, this is your power and sense of self. Where do you find your power?”

“In hope for everything to change. I do what I do to create change.”

“Good, very sure of your answer. What stands in your way and how will you overcome it?”

“I’m not sure what my obstacle is, but I’m willing to do anything to create the change I want to see,” Scylla confidently answered. Looking into Raelle’s glowing blue eyes made her more sure of her answer. She did everything for her, she would even die for her at this point. The world began to glow with renewing life as carian bugs crept from the soil and a variety of plants growing from the ashes.

“The heart is the source of your fourth chakra, this is where the physical and the spiritual meet,” the spirit explained. “When your chakras are aligned, love, and compassion flow through you in brilliant harmony. Blocked by grief and anger, self-hate, and fear of betrayal. What befuddles your heart?”

“My parents being gone and seeing you hurt by those vile Camarilla.”

“You must let go of these malicious thoughts. Those at fault will pay for their actions but you will not be satisfied until you forgive yourself. These were not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have gone back, they would still be alive if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn and gone back,” Scylla shamefully confessed. “And I can’t help but think your early deployment was also my fault. Being in such close proximity to a Spree member, and you almost died, I felt your heart stop,” she teared up. “Goddess, forgive me for all I’ve done because I can’t.”

“You must, it takes time, but you must forgive yourself.”

Scylla shook her head and pulled away. Her head spun in a vertigo-inducing rush when she was sucked back into the real world. “I can’t do it.”

Willa was sitting at her desk, looking at the letter in Scylla’s possession. “It’s alright, Ramshorn. Mastering all seven chakras is almost impossible especially for the first time. Just as well you came to, I heard the clock strike three, so I will release you to eat something and spend time with your peers. Thank you for the letter, too.”

“It’s already three o’clock? I was only in there for fifteen minutes.”

“Time works differently in your subconscious, like your dreams, time can go by quickly or slowly.”

Scylla warmed her tea while her leader read Alder’s words. “Have you realigned all seven of your chakras?”

“Once, but the crown and the heart can be hard to get past. Would you like to talk about your experience?”

“No thank you. So should I come back?”

“Tomorrow, I’ll show you some works I learned after our meditation session.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, If you have enjoyed what you've read, leave a like! If there are any mistakes or requests, feel free to leave a comment!


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